of rosemary stems and calendula heads
by VacuumTan
Summary: "I don't serve customers," he said with a serene expression, tying lillies together. "I serve people- their lives, their stories." Then, he paused. "I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: hi, just a quick heads-up; i found some unfinished bits of this on my old computer and thought they were hella cute so i'm posting the bits here and i'll continue the story whenever i think of it. when it's done, i'll cross-post the entirety of this bad boy on my ao3.**

 **also, i do, in fact, not remember where i was going with this. this could be a problem, but prolly not.**

* * *

Kagamine Len had never been one for routine, really.

Sure, he went to uni whenever he had class, worked his never changing shifts, always went to the same grocery stores and bought the same things and _maybe_ he also had a fixed bedtime. So what. It wasn't routine as much as it was a neccesary evil in order to live like a decent human being while attending university.

But despite all that, there was one part of his day that had become an everyday habit by now.

At exactly 6.45 every morning, he'd grab his keys and his phone (alongside his favourite pair of overly expensive headphones) and go for a casual jog. He'd head two blocks westwards, would run a few circles around the ponds in the park before heading back home a lane over. Had Kagamine Len been a simpler person, he would have started his jogging-routine out of pure concern for his own health. He, however, wasn't that simple a person and physical activity so early in the morning wasn't quite his cup of tea, either.

God knows what had motivated him to go for a run in the first place, but the morning he had taken off had turned out to be one so ridiculously fateful that it made him exercise well before he needed to get out of bed in order to not miss class; a tiny florist shop at the corner of the lane leading back home was what had him brave any kind of weather and all the sleepiness in the world.

It was a romantic little store that managed to smell better than the bakery two houses further down the road, but that was hardly what kept Len coming there. Besides it still being closed at the asscrack of dawn, he had never particularly cared for flowers. Although he supposed they were nice enough, what really made him come back every day was the store's owner.

Always looking ready to murder someone, the guy in question probably wouldn't strike anybody as someone who surrounded himself with the beauty of flowers all day long. In fact, he didn't look like someone who surrounded himself with anything. He came across as bored and slightly upset, never one to get involved with others, which was probably why Len had decided to go bug him whenever he could in the first place.

They had met on That Fateful Day (TM) when Len had almost run into him while he was busy emptying buckets of water into the gutter before his shop and, as an apology for nearly stomping him, Len had offered to help with the water. The guy had attempted to cook him alive with only a glare before, at last, shrugging and allowing it. He'd introduced himself as Piko and only ever threw insults and snide remarks at Len, but he'd borne with it and even offered to help him out some other time again. Piko had, in turn, told him to come by every day and do whatever chores he himself didn't feel like doing and of course he'd taken it to heart.

Nevertheless, Piko had been shocked when Len had dropped by the next day.

And that was the whole reason why Len had settled into the routine of going for a jog in the morning. He couldn't tell what exactly made him help Piko- he really couldn't- but somehow, he felt compelled to make his usually sullen, miserable expressions a little less sullen and miserable. Most of the time, he made the other feel worse, but he could deal with that much.

And deal with it he would.


	2. Chapter 2

The one thing Len truly came to love about the florist shop was the pleasant smell that was a mixture of differently scented flowers, fertilisers, earth and cut stems. It was alive and natural, refreshing even, especially when taken in so early into the day.

"Good morning!" he yelled into the seemingly empty store as he opened the thin glass door with a chime of the bell in the treshold. Despite currently being out of sight, Piko had to be somewhere, either in the back or hidden behind some shelf or another. Only a response would tell.

"There's nothing good about mornings at all," came a muffled reply from below the counter. Len fully stepped inside the shop and let the door fall closed behind him with a 'ding' before heading towards the source of the voice. Bending over the smooth, clean surface that was the slab of stone on top of the counter, he grinned down at the figure crouched below it.

Piko sat on his heels, his fingers tangled into a mess of threads (or thin wires, really), his brow furrowed in anger. Raising his hands for Len to examine more closely, he practically growled. "These fucking things just spilled out a few minutes ago and I'm about to kill a man."

"I'm not in a good position then, am I?" Len asked and pulled back in order to round the counter and sit down next to Piko who frowned deeply at him. "Can you get your fingers out?"

"If I could, I would have done that already. The flowers need tending to, after all," Piko replied and glared at his hands. Gently grabbing his wrists, Len looked at the mess around the shopkeeper's fingers. Truly, the wires were wrapped around each other in so many places that he, too, couldn't tell where any of them began or ended.

Seeing no saving the situation, Len got up and searched the countertop for a pair of scissors or clippers. "Do you need these wires that badly?" he asked, peering under a heap of foil and paper.

"It's just one really long wire," Piko corrected bitterly. "But no, I still have a roll of this stuff in the back. It's fine."

Len nodded and, as if on cue, finally found a pair of rose clippers behind a large roll of sticky tape. Crouching back down, he held out the clippers for Piko to see who, in turn, offered his hands to him. "How did you manage to do this, anyways? You're usually so nimble with your fingers," Len chatted idly while he snapped the wires.

A sigh escaped the florist. "I don't know, man. One second I wrap it around my hand to keep it nice and straight, the next moment I'm caught up in this... predicament," he said, watching as his digits were freed one by one.

Several clippings and minutes later, Piko had- in a rare display of gratitude- fixed Len a cup of inhumanly strong coffee which he, with regards to neither his schedule nor his stomach, drank slowly whilst keeping up some pointless conversation with the ever busy shopkeeper. It was strange though, just staying there without helping out. To Len, it had definitely been a first.

It was also on that day that he consciously realised how much he enjoyed Piko's company.


	3. Chapter 3

As days began to get shorter and the weather got colder than what a combo of thick sweatpants and a warm hoodie could ward off, Len's daily jogs turned into early morning walks. Quite brisk walks once the temperature dropped below zero, but, nevertheless, he always managed to arrive at the flowershop on time.

Since early November, the whole store had turned into a sea of poinsettia and decorative christmas orbs, smelling like an advent wreath rather than the fresh smell Len had grown accustomed to. He didn't hate it, per se, but it was different all the same.

Piko had, on more than one occasion, stated just how much he hated the holiday season, going on about how they were in _Japan_ , for chrissake, so most people weren't even Christians. Len, in turn, found himself wondering why- of all people- the owner of a business complained about the commercialisation of a holiday. But for all he wondered, he was certain he'd never find the right answer, anyways.

Piko was peculiar like that, after all.

When the first of December rolled around, Len had bought an advent calendar for his favourite sourpuss of a shopkeeper who, predictably, wasn't all that happy about the gesture. (Nevertheless, he hung it on the wall of his shop.) "You're so bothersome," he had said around the first door's chocolate, trying his hardest not to appreciate the taste.

As a punishment, Piko made Len clean the floor below the displays of poinsettia (and hey, who knew that these things dropped little black seeds en masse?) and sent him home without giving him any of his murder-coffee. That, in turn, left Len freezing on his way back to his flat and before he knew it, he had caught a cold.

His sister, Rin, had berated him for it, a day later, as she shoved another spoonful of disgustingly bitter cough-drops past his lips.

But after two more days, Len was as good as new (albeit with a stuffy nose) and so, he walked the familiar track to Piko's shop. He half-expected to be scolded for neglecting his not-really-official part-time work the second he passed the threshold, but what he found instead was quite the opposite.

As soon as the 'ding' of the door opening broke the quiet inside the store, Len was greeted by the sound of hasty, heavy footfalls and the smell of chamomile. Barely ten seconds later, Piko emerged from the back of the shop, cheeks flushed and breathing a bit too heavily, whilst holding a bright pink mug with kitschy roses plastered all over it.

"Where _were_ you?" he hissed, smoothing down his somewhat ruffled hair. He looked livid and, suddenly, Len felt at fault. Before he could apologise, Piko went on, "Do you know how late I ran these past few days, just because you decided not to show up? And, more importantly, did you think I wouldn't _care_ that you just disappeared without as much as a single word?"

"Sorry," Len muttered and ducked his head. "I caught a cold and ran a fever those past two days. My sister didn't let me drop by."

Within seconds, Piko's expression changed from anger to something Len thought looked almost sympathetic. "Oh," he breathed and placed his mug on the counter. "That's... um. I'm sorry."

With a soft little sigh, he beckoned Len over. "You don't- you needn't help out today. Just take the tea and sit down somewhere where you won't bother me," he instructed and pushed the mug towards Len who, with a small, appreciative smile, took it.

"Thanks," he said.

"Whatever," Piko replied.

And as Len sat down on a small chair behind the counter, lukewarm chamomile tea in that ugly pink mug warming his fingers, he noticed how the advent calender hadn't been opened past the first day, yet.


	4. Chapter 4

As much as he liked to believe he was, Kagamine Len was, in fact, _not_ a man of his principles. While he never put off work and always brushed his teeth the way his dentist had shown him, one well-played pair of puppy eyes could, on a bad day, probably get him to sell his own mother.

"Could you please, please, _please_ pick up a nice bouquet for me first thing in the morning?" Miku had asked him over dinner one night, her eyes big and round and definitely aiming for Len's every weakness. "I totally forgot that our anniversary is tomorrow, and now everything is closed and I gotta work an early shift but didn't get Luka anything. So pretty please?"

Len had, of course, agreed to get Miku flowers, if only because that's what good childhood friends who happened to be sort-of-friends with a florist do, and the elation on Miku's face was enough to drive home the point that Len had made the right decision.

Which was why, an hour before Piko usually opened the shop, Len stood in front of his counter, wringing his hands guiltily whilst wondering how to breach the subject. Before he came to a conclusion, however, Piko had already shoved a decorative basket filled with Christmas ornaments at him. "Stop wasting space and put that on the table next to the white poinsettias. And maybe put some of the ornaments wherever they'll look pretty," he ordered, finger extended and pointing, and, nodding dumbly, Len did as instructed.

Which, in hindsight, hadn't brought him any closer to fulfilling his duty; rather than that, it had given him more time for stalling. So, while hooking an ornament into some tinsel-laden atrocity, with his tone as casual and conversational as possible, Len asked, "Say, Piko, do you maybe have the time to whip up a bouquet for me?"

As soon as he'd said that, a (surprisingly heavy) chunk of crunched up carton was flung at his head. Piko first glared, then huffed. "Do you know how much work goes into tying a non-standard bouquet, you ass?" he growled, yet stopped whatever he'd been doing in order to march behind the counter.

Len, feeling bashful, could do little more than scratch the back of his rapidly reddening neck with an awkward chuckle. "Sorry, I know you have to set up everything for the day and all. I didn't expect you to be able to make me one, anyways, so-"

"Nu-uh, stop that," Piko interrupted while piling his work utensils on top of the counter. Surprised, Len allowed for his mouth to snap shut. Apparently satisfied with the reaction he'd elicited, the florist puffed out his chest and smirked. "I never said I wouldn't fix you one," he said. "What do you need it for?"


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Len saw Piko smile, it was by chance and hadn't been directed at him, either. He had been running errands for his sister when mere coincidence had led him down the familiar route of his morning jogs/walks. And as he passed the store, he'd of course looked through the wide windows to catch a glimpse of the shopkeeper. But when he finally did see him, he was immediately glued to the spot.

Passing an old lady a nice bouquet, he was smiling brightly, leaning close to her as if he were telling her some sort of secret. In turn, the lady smiled back at him, chatting away without a care in the world and just some flowers in her arms. The entire scene irked Len- everything from the bright expression down to the voluntary proximity to a stranger seemed odd when Piko did it.

And yet, it was mesmerising. Piko was a pale presence among colourful flowers and mismatched furniture at all times, but Len had hardly seen him standing still amidst it all, smiling serenely against a backdrop of festive, seasonal colours and glitter. No, the Piko he'd come to know was a bustling presence, always double-checking if everything was in its rightful place and then checking once more, just to be sure. He wore his frowns like expensive couture and the only upward-tilts of his lips Len had seen thus far happened when he was smirking at him, all condescension and mean-spirited amusement.

Maybe it was Len's fault that he never made Piko smile. It was a far-fetched thought and one that was, quite honestly, not very likely to be true, either, but for a second, he entertained the possibility.

A few paces ahead of him, the old lady with the bouquet (which was now wrapped in pretty paper to protect it from the cold) exited the shop, keeping a little grin on her lips. She seemed content, and Len couldn't help but wonder if that was what Piko smiled for, ultimately- if he smiled, just so his customers could retain their own smiles. Somehow, it was oddly befitting of the irritable, but by no means unlikeable, florist.

The question remained on Len's mind until he got home, and even then, he still kept wondering.


	6. Chapter 6

The last few days before Christmas had, apparently, worn Piko's patience painfully thin. Len had entered the store only ten minutes ago, and Piko had already chugged two mugs of his murder coffee. Currently, he was on his third.

"I'm going insane, Len," he muttered against the surface of the counter, his nose and lips awkwardly smushed against it. His right hand blindly reached for the handle of his mug, but instead of picking it up, he knocked it over, the coffee spilling from the countertop all the way down to the floor. The mug followed suit, smashing into the ground and breaking into countless, bright pink, rose-patterned pieces.

Piko's eyes followed his late drink's trajectory, but instead of throwing a fit, like Len had expected him to, he simply slumped in his seat behind the counter and sighed. "Life is meaningless and I want to die," he groaned. Wordlessly, Len went into the back to fetch some paper towels and a broom.

When he emerged once more, he found that Piko hadn't moved an inch. "Come on, you'll get coffee in your hair if you keep lying there," he told him gently. Sluggishly, Piko sat up at that and held out his hand as if asking for some of the paper towels Len had just fetched. Len, of course, complied.

"I liked that mug," Piko said as he started wiping the coffee on the counter, making some of it slosh over the edge. Len hummed in acknowledgement and placed some towels on the little puddle of tar-like coffee. Piko frowned. "Why'd you throw these on top of the shards, too?" he asked.

Len snorted and smiled at him. "I don't know, honestly. It seemed like the best option, but I now realise that it's kinda stupid."

And Piko- Piko threw his head back and laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'll be closing the shop for a few days after New Year's," Piko told Len one morning whilst touching up a small, custom bouquet that was to be bought right after the shop's official opening time. Despite that, business had slowed down considerably after Christmas Eve. Len could tell as much by the lack of tenseness in Piko's shoulders- he'd been alternating between being stiff as a board and slumped on the nearest surface these past few days.

So it was a given that he'd want some peace and quiet after the holiday rush. "You deserve as much," Len replied easily, watching the florist tuck some additional greenery into the bouquet.

Piko blinked, then pursed his lips. "Is that right," he murmured, pale lashes casting shadows upon the dark bags still under his eyes. And for the first time since he'd met him, Len realised just how _frail_ Piko looked, stripped off of all his usual ferocity and underlying zeal. Suddenly, he was neither an ethereal being, pale like light among nature's colourful beauty, nor the force of nature with liquid passion running though his veins Len knew him to be. No, suddenly- suddenly, he was just thin limbs with sickly white skin stretched across them; he was glassy aquamarine eyes and routinely working hands.

And it was kind of terrifying.

"How about you finish today's orders and call it a day?" Len asked, and it was tentative, because he worried too much. He worried that one wrong word would cause the thin porcelain that made up Piko's body these days to crack.

But it didn't. Instead, the florist's eyes landed on him, as soft as the tiny little smile gracing his lips. "I could do that," he replied, directing his gaze back towards the flowers, yet never letting the gentle expression slip. Len couldn't help but smile, too.

"You should," he told Piko, who hummed softly and, with the tired, unguarded quirk of his lips and the late-rising winter sun's light dying his pale hair a glowing orange, looked more beautiful than anything Len had ever seen.


	8. Chapter 8

True to his word, Piko ended up closing the shop down until the seventh. It shook up Len's daily routine quite a bit (but it wasn't a routine at all, he told himself, because he didn't _do_ routines) but he was on break, anyways, so it wouldn't hurt him to laze around just a bit. And maybe study some. Rin was nagging him quite a bit about that.

Nevertheless, the new year came, he had another year of life under his belt. On the first of January, him and Rin took a quick trip to the local shrine, buying themselves a fortune each. ('Great Blessing,' Len's had said and Rin, upon seeing it, had crumpled her own 'Great Curse' with severe prejudice. "It's all made-up anyways," she had insisted with a huff and Len couldn't help but laugh.)

On the third, they went shopping and ended up buying some of the leftover Christmas candy that was now fifty percent off. While leaving the store, a sky-coloured mug caught Len's eye and, on a whim, he ended up buying it. Rin only raised a brow at the admittedly ugly flower pattern, but didn't comment on it any further. (Len, at least, thought Piko might appreciate it.)

And so, the first week of January went by quietly, without incident.

Len had never felt so stressed in his life.


	9. Chapter 9

The shop, Len mused, was different during business hours.

Even when there weren't any customers around, everything looked different, bathed in brighter sunlight or even the soft yellow of street-lights. The air smelled different too; the scent of cut stems was stronger, near overwhelming, whereas the underlying note of freshly brewed chamomile tea was completely absent.

Currently, Piko was tending to a man, tall and clad in a nice suit, going over his order in hushed tones. Len could do little but watch the florist's face light up and then turn pensive, over and over again, from where he stood, awkwardly holding onto the box containing the mug he'd bought. (The whole thing looked like a rectangular accident, rather than a present, even after his and Rin's combined efforts to make it look nice. At least it had a bow on top.)

"And to what do I owe the honour, Mister Kagamine?" was the question that ripped Len out of his trance and he was surprised to find that suit-man had, apparently, left without him even noticing. So he just blinked at Piko, who looked at him with a smug grin and a hand on his hip.

"I wanted to—" Len began, and, because his brain was apparently dead, simply thrust out the mangled-looking present. Piko stared at it, scrunching his nose, before gingerly plucking it from Len's hands and shaking it. "It's a belated Christmas present, if you so will," he said softly and Piko's expression became even more pinched.

"I don't need useless stuff," he replied, then stared at it. "What's with that wrapping? Did you get a toddler to do it for you?"

"Rin and I both gave our best," Len said and _maybe_ \- but just maybe- pouted a bit for dramatic effect. "We aren't professionals at wrapping things."

Piko snorted and slipped a finger between the folds of the paper, tearing it. "Are you seriously getting lippy with me? How—oh," he halted, and stared at the box, covered in photographs of its contents, in what Len thought to be awe. "You got me a new mug."

Even if he'd tried to, Len couldn't fight the smile begging to take over his face. "I thought you'd like it. Especially after breaking your old one," he told him, and he felt lightheaded as he kept grinning like an idiot.

But Piko just scowled. "It's ugly as sin," he said, and that statement came as a punch to the gut for Len. Yet, before he could apologise, with a barely-there quirk of his lips and mirth in his eyes, Piko met Len's gaze head-on. "I love it. Thanks, Len."

"Didn't you call it ugly just now, though?" Len croaked out, entirely bewildered, because, really, disbelief was a pretty mild word. Yet, Piko's small smile just turned into a smirk.

"Of course it is. But I think it's a good ugly," he answered. Then, he paused, opening the box and slipping the mug out to examine it properly. And, much to Len's horror, the colour in the photos had, apparently, been wrong all along.

"It's pink."


	10. Chapter 10

"What makes you decide what to put into your bouquets?" Len asked Piko, one lazy and slow morning while sipping tea from Pink Atrocity 2.0. He'd meant for the question to be innocent and conversational, yet the glare Piko shot him in reply made him feel like he'd just committed some sort of mortal sin.

"Do you have eyes in that head of yours, Kagamine?" he grit out and ripped off a piece of sticky tape with excessive vigour. "Colours. Size. General aestheticism. You name it, it plays into it."

Len found himself frowning at that. "But don't all flowers have meanings?" he asked, trying hard not to grin when he saw Piko twitch just a bit.

"Well, aren't you a well-educated little brat," he exhaled. Then, he frowned and pointed at his flower-buckets. "Fetch me four of those orange lillies from over there and I might explain a thing or two to you."

With a grin, Len set down his mug and trotted over to the buckets. He glanced around the variety of flowers before him, idly nibbling on his chapped lips. "These're lillies, right?" he asked, stepping out of the way so Piko could see past him, and pointed at some fairly large, somewhat flat blossoms with few petals and prominent pistils. Piko grinned, yet pretended to hide it behind a hand.

"Sure looks like it to me," he answered. "Now you just gotta find the orange ones. Think you can do that?"

Len blew him a raspberry at that and picked four orange lillies from the bucket before laying them down on top of the counter. "There you go," he said and picked his tea up again. "Now tell me about flower-meanings in relation to your work."

"You're being a little shit," the florist chided, yet his voice wasn't devoid of fondness. He picked up the lillies and began cutting the lowest part of their stems at a steep angle. "It's basically like this: if someone orders a bouquet for a special occasion, they want to convey a message. It's my job to translate their feelings into flowers," Piko explained, expression going soft whilst working. "Whether the recipient gets it or not is another question altogether, though."

"Is that why you always chat up your customers so willingly?" Len blurted, then, and maybe he gave away the fact that he'd watched Piko work during business hours already- smiling, frowning, pensive Piko, so detached from his usual self.

But Piko only relaxed even further into his task, memories and thoughts associated with the question making his eyes crinkle at the edges with fondness. Idly, he cut off some wire. "I don't serve customers," he said with a serene expression, tying lillies together. "I serve people- their lives, their stories." Then, he paused.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

Thoughtfully, Len stated into his tea. "It makes you feel at ease, right? Indulging people and expressing feelings in their stead," he asked. Piko halted his ministrations, but then nodded. "I wonder why you have such an awful personality, then."

\- admittedly, Len maybe deserved getting cuffed over the head for that last remark.

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 **a/n: there we go with the summary, finally. it had no context. i needed to make context. i just wanted to say that this is about halfway through now. i'll try writing more bc i need insp for drawing and shit bc i gotta draw lots for college apps and, subsequently, my portfolio. i'm more of a writer than an artist tho. well. idk.**


	11. Chapter 11

Maybe Piko had already forgotten, by the time Len brought it up again. "What flower would suit me?" he'd asked, genuinely curious, and Piko had blinked at him, surprised.

"Are we talking meanings?" he asked back, and went about scrubbing a particularly nasty speck of dirt off his counter, his hair swaying in tandem with his movements. Len just hummed an affirmative and stared at the whorl on top of Piko's head, watching a prominent cowlick bob back and forth.

The florist huffed out a frustrated breath before- without warning or anything- throwing his cleaning rag right into Len's face. "You take over, I'll think," he said, as though that was a compromise at all, and disappeared into the back before Len could as much as protest. Which, of course, meant that he was left with little choice but to begin scrubbing, lest he illicit Piko's wrath.

A few minutes passed, and when Piko reemerged, it was with two mugs of tea in his hands; one was the familiar pink one, which Piko took a sip from, but the other, Len hadn't seen before. It was a subdued yellow with an orange cartoon lion printed to the front, and, more importantly, it now stood before Len, beckoning him to have a drink. "You got a new mug," he said and picked up the ceramic to inspect it.

Piko made a noncommittal noise in reply and shrugged. "I didn't want to keep swapping spit with your freeloading ass anymore," he answered before setting his tea down and checking for the stain on the counter. "You got it off."

Len grinned and puffed out his chest, all exaggerated pride. "Sure did," he laughed, "I needed to show you that I'm not just freeloading, after all." That comment earned him a raspberry blown his way, but Len just laughed and took a sip of his tea- fennel, today.

A few minutes passed in companionable almost-silence, until Len found himself getting antsy at last. "Hey, Piko?" he began, staring into his now empty mug. Piko hummed some sort of acknowledgement and, well, that was as good an incentive as any. "Did you do some thinking?"

That all but earned him a deadpan stare. "I don't know about you, but I do quite a bit of thinking all day long," Piko replied, voice flat and entirely unimpressed. Len had a hard time figuring out if Piko was just fucking with him, then, or if he'd genuinely forgotten his question from earlier that morning; his curiosity in Piko's work had only grown over time, but the personal layer to all of it was honestly the most interesting aspect to it yet.

"No, no," Len said, after what must have been only a second of doubting. "You said you'd think of a flower meaning that suits me. And, well. I'm curious is all," he went on, vaguely bashful, if the heat rising up the back of his neck was anything to go by.

"Oh," was all the reply he got at first. Then, Piko looked around, as though the answer was written somewhere. "I guess that's a no-brainer," he said. "Calendulae."

Len fixed him with a nonplussed stare. "You do realise that I don't even know what they look like, right?" he asked, and Piko shook his head, condescending smile tugging at his lips.

"Len, Len, Len..." he tutted, bangs swishing against his forehead. "For how many months have you been coming here, again?" He was all dramatic exaggeration, Len knew, but somehow, his words still seemed patronising. He still resisted the urge to pout.

"A calendula is somewhere between yellow and red in colour," Piko explained, mockingly patient. "And because of that, it's associated with the sunrise. There you go with your explaination."

Len frowned. "Why would that suit me, though? Because I come here early?" he asked, gaze falling to the new mug; its colour scheme suddenly seemed offensive. "It's a pretty abstract meaning, anyways. Does it mean anything else?"

The florist snorted at that, although Len imagined his face to be just a tad pinker than usual. "Nothing significant," he replied curtly and tucked some loose strands of hair behind his ear. "It's all about your masochistic tendencies that deliver you to my doorstep every day at the asscrack of dawn. Such an early riser, damnit."

Len smiled to himself. "You never complain about it, though."


	12. Chapter 12

"What made you want to become a florist, anyways?" Len asked into the lull of a slow morning, the pitter-patter of the icy rain against the windows and Piko's lethargic preparations for the day the only prominent sounds in the shop. Piko huffed and put down the wire he was busy disentangling.

"I had no idea what to do with my life," he replied, sounding surprisingly detached. "My mom used to love flowers and a local flowershop was hiring, so I applied and went through with it."

Len blinked, not having expected such a straight-forward answer at all. Then, however, a realisation sunk in. "Your mom 'used to love' flowers?" he asked, wide-eyed and afraid of having touched upon a sensitive subject. Piko just nodded, expression unreadable. Len felt a bit like screaming in frustration, maybe. "What happened to her?"

At that, the florist shrugged, but his expression went grave. The next second, his lips started trembling and Len could have sworn his heart stopped beating right at that moment. So it _was_ something bad, after all. He probably made Piko relive some bad memories and—

"Hay fever," Piko replied curtly and turned away from Len at the speed of light in a vain attempt to hide his growing smirk, all under the guise of going back to his wire.

"You're awful," Len muttered. Piko snorted and spun around again, his grin so wide, it looked as though it was splitting his face in half.

"You totally expected a sad backstory just now, didn't you?" he asked blithely, eyes wide and shiny. Len silently crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air with a huff. Piko laughed. "You're such a loser, not even denying it," he said, voice airy and light.

"I'm sorry for even _trying_ to be sensitive," Len shot back, pointedly glaring at Piko as if to emphasise how offended he was. But the florist just laughed- a happy sound, chime-like and easy- and maybe that made Len's resolve crumble, just a bit.

(Perhaps he even started laughing along, at some point; he'd deny it afterwards.)


	13. Chapter 13

The days passed quickly, sometimes, but only as Len was helping Piko restock his roses for Valentine's Day did he realise just _how_ quickly it had really gone by. Naturally, the holiday had Piko a nervous wreck once more, but the fact that he ended up making nothing but, as he'd put it, "standard kitsch for your _dearest_ schnookums", apparently left him somewhat more relaxed than the custom bouquet madness that had driven him up the wall around Christmas.

It struck Len as odd, how condescendingly Piko looked upon romantic gestures, given his choice of career, as well as his love for the more emotional aspects of the job. Maybe he just didn't care much for love; maybe he'd had bad experiences along the way. Len was curious, but also convinced that he wouldn't get a straight answer out of the florist, even if he asked.

Piko was a strange being, either way. Three days to Valentine's and here he was, back to chugging his coffee from hell while trying to salvage a roll of heart-patterned wrapping paper that had had an encounter with one of the water buckets several minutes ago. Len supposed it was all part of his charm; after all, he somehow possessed the ability to casually walk the line between ethereal beauty and angry cynism and somehow make it _work_. In a way, Len admired how contradictory he was; how he was soft and harsh, how he was graceful and clumsy, how he was dedicated and careless, well-versed and crude, kind and spiteful, bright and gloomy.

And, well, maybe it was the pink colour-scheme dominating the store at the moment, or the smell of the roses, or maybe just the fact that his brain had just then caught up, but at that exact moment, Len realised something _grand_ in the most underwhelming manner possible.

"Oh," he said, then carried on as usual.

* * *

 **a/n: and so len realised his lil' gay crush.**

 **sorry for taking some time off of this thing, i got caught up in college apps and shit. also i overindulged in p2is but once i get the jun-train going you can't stop me, can't keep me away from my soft gay son who didn't deserve any of this shut up i'm not crying you're crying  
**


	14. Chapter 14

It was kind of strange, admitting it out loud.

Len was currently staring himself down in the bathroom mirror of his and Rin's appartment, some odd minutes past six, clad only in a bathrobe with his wet hair up in a very sad excuse for a bun. Outwardly, he was the same as always. He had kind of expected to find a different, unfamiliar look in his eyes; had expected his neutral expressions to suddenly look happier; had expected his skin to magically get clean. But nothing like that had happened.

Because, why would it? He had a crush; a mundane, casual crush, stemming from a mundane, casual friendship. It was honestly somewhat underwhelming, the reality of it.

Instead of a romance novel's burning passion- fiercer than a tempest, more destructive than an uncontainable inferno- all he got was a very real, tender heat- not a storm, but a gentle breeze, not an all-consuming fire, but the warm little flame flickering atop a candlestick.

It simmered under his skin and warmed him up, ever so slightly- it had been doing that for months, slowly growing more and more prominent.

And so, it had become the truth; and in time, he'd have to say it out loud.

"I like him," he told his reflection seriously, holding his own gaze. The Len in the mirror looked surprised for a brief second, before smiling the smile Len felt in his cheeks. He could do this. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but whenever the time came. "I really, really like him," he tried again, giddier than before. "I actually lo—"

He choked on _that_ word. Maybe that was taking things too far. Mirror Len apparently thought so too, looking quite constipated. "Alright, but I _do_ like him."

"Good for you."

(Len did not yell bloody murder.)

(Len totally did yell bloody murder.)

He whipped his head around towards the door, staring at it with wide eyes. "Can't you, like, knock? Let a man have his privacy?" he squeaked out, voice going shrill with embarrassment.

From beyond the door, he could hear his sister sigh. "I am standing in front of a locked door and you've been loudly talking to yourself in there. I'm pretty sure this doesn't even count as eavesdropping," she said, voice level and unimpressed.

With his ears burning in embarrassment, Len unlocked the door and pushed it open, the residual steam of his shower escaping into the hallway. Rin was leaning against the wall across from him, arms crossed in front of her chest. "You were talking about your flower boy, weren't you?" she asked, not sounding judgemental in the slightest. Slowly, Len nodded; might as well. Rin smiled a bit at that. "Took you long enough."

Bashfully, Len looked at the wooden flooring just past the threshold of the bathroom. "I probably knew since a whole while ago," he said, ever so softly. "I just couldn't put a name to it."

Rin hummed thoughtfully and pushed herself away from the wall. "I didn't know you also swung that way, though," she said, tone neutral. Len met her eye and merely shrugged. That earned him a grin from his sister. "With Miku and Luka around, we wouldn't think of gay couples as weird, after all," Rin laughed and side-stepped past Len to enter the bathroom.

Just before closing the door, she turned around again and looked at her brother through the small crack she'd left open. "Let's talk when you get back from checking up on your sweetheart. And invite him to our annual pizza dinner on the fourteenth, if you wanna," she said, then let the door fall shut behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

"Don't you have a girlfriend to bug today?" Piko asked while absently writing a sign that, no, business hours weren't extended, even if it was Valentine's Day. The red sharpie that occassionally died in the middle of a word really drove the point home.

Len slumped against the counter, his mug filled with not tea, but the glorified tar Piko called coffee. Stupid late night study sessions. "I don't," he replied and looked up at the florist, desperately trying to swallow a vague feeling of inadequacy and bashfulness. "The last time I was seriously dating someone was in high school."

( _"How about you? Are you currently seeing anyone? Have you ever dated anyone at all? Would you date a guy? Maybe a blond one? With blue eyes? Slightly taller than you? Ready to put up with your moods no matter what? Would you accept if that hypothetical guy asked you out?"_ )

Piko whistled, as though impressed. "That's kinda sad," he said, putting down his marker to admire his more than a little crooked handiwork. Len gave him an offended look, knowing that Piko didn't pay him any attention.

"I'd been dating her all throughout middle and high school, you know," he stated. At that, Piko looked back up, eyes wide in surprise. Perhaps Len felt a bit smug, then. "We broke up because she moved all the way to Tokyo for uni. We still text each other, sometimes."

" _Okay_ , I give," Piko said, mockingly throwing his hands up in surrender, "not sad." He got out a roll of sticky tape and stuck some to the corners of his sign. "Now be a good boy and put this in the window."

Len sighed and took the sheet from Piko's hands, minding the tape, and got up. He hung it above the sign stating the shop's regular business hours and turned around when he heard Piko snigger behind his back. "What is it?" he asked, feeling oddly drained.

But Piko just grinned, bright and bemused; because he'd been doing that a lot, lately, hadn't he? – Smiling, that was. Len wanted to take offense, what with it being at his expense, most of the time, but Piko's smiles were just that _beautiful_. Well, and honestly, he'd pretty much been conversing through teasing and insults since day one, so it was hardly unusual at that point.

Len just shook his head, in the end, and made his way back to the counter. Piko hid his grin behind the rim of his mug, eyes shining with mirth. "Miku and Luka are coming over in the evening," Len said as he sat back down. He inhaled, then, as if to summon all his courage, and met Piko's gaze head-on. "If you have nothing to do and no one to spend today with, wanna come over, too? We're making pizza."

The florist blinked a few times, clearly caught off guard by the question. A second later, he huffed a breath, crossed his arms and frowned. Len immediately felt like he'd overstepped a boundary he hadn't been allowed to toe at in the first place. What if Piko was dating someone after all? (And wouldn't _that_ be disappointing? Len didn't want to consider the possibility.)

Piko huffed. "What, just because I'm single, you think inviting me to your little family dinner on Valentine's is the way to go?" he said after a pregnant pause, sharp eyes trained on Len as if to gauge even his subtlest shift of expression. But Len just pursed his lips and kept the rest of his face deliberately neutral, nodding once, and apparently, that was all Piko needed to hear. A dry smile spread across his face. "I'm getting free pizza!" he hollered in mock-excitement, fist pumping the air for good measure.

"Are you even for real?" Len laughed, his bad mood beginning to settle into something much lighter; or maybe that concentrated caffeine was just finally getting into his blood stream.

"Oh, I'm the _realest_ ," Piko replied, leaning across the counter to get up in Len's face, expression exaggeratedly sultry. Len snorted a laugh and, feeling confident enough in their relationship after all these months to know it wouldn't break anything, reached out a hand to flatly smush it against Piko's face. Who, in turn, let out a strangled little noise of protest, but Len was laughing too hard at that point to even do anything about it.

Which was probably why, when he didn't remove his hand immediately, he was rewarded with a wet feeling against his open palm. In his shock, he pulled back, only to find Piko smirking at him, tongue poking out from between his lips. "Did you seriously just _lick_ me?" Len asked, and Piko's smirk widened. "Gross."

"Pick me up at six thirty and get me something to eat then, loverboy," the florist said, as though that was the proper thing to say after licking someone's hand. (In actuality, Len didn't know whether there was a conversational protocol to follow in case of acute hand-licking.)

Either way, he couldn't win, anyways. If Piko had moved the conversation in that direction already, then he just had to follow along. The notion brought a smile to his face. "Alright, six thrity," he agreed. "Are you allergic to anything?"

Piko pretended to think hard for a second, then concluded, "no, not as far as I know." Len grinned and, if only habitually, picked up his mug to down all its contents in one go.

A little too late, he remembered that he had chosen to drink coffee instead of his usual tea.

A little later, still, he realised that it was _Piko's_ coffee, which tasted like goddamn _charcoal_.

(But apparently, his face throughout it all had been so funny that Piko ended up collapsing on the floor with laughter.)

* * *

 **a/n: can i ask y'all a question? bc i realised there's a lot of scenes i'd like to write for this fic that wouldn't make sense anymore, chronologically... since the few of y'all who read this seem to enjoy it a lot, would you be willing to read some coda for this fic? just a little expansion on this au, still? bc i'm still undecided. i'll definitely write an epilogue, but. coda? yes? no? maybe?**


	16. Chapter 16

"So that's him," was the first thing Rin said in lieu of a greeting, just as Piko had made it past the threshold. Apparently, she had been keeping an eye on the door; Len resented that nosiness of hers, just a bit.

Piko took it in stride though, giving Rin a very blatant and scrutinising once-over in what Len persumed to be a severe case of pettiness. "She really looks like you," he said after a few seconds, apparently hell-bent on keeping up with Rin talking past him.

Len sighed. _Children_. "Piko, that's, as you've already noticed, my sister Rin," he began, gesturing in Rin's general direction. "And Rin, that's Piko," punctuated with another vague hand movement.

"Ah, nice to meet you," Rin said, a bit robotically, and bowed briefly. "I uh... hope you like pizza, because we made maybe a bit too much."

"No, that's perfect. And thanks for having me over," Piko replied and let a professional little smile grace his lips. Then, he turned to Len. "Where may I put my shoes and jacket?" he asked, setting down a large plastic bag he'd brought along (without telling Len what it contained; not that he was curious or anything.)

"You can hang your jacket up on the coathangers over there and your shoes can go wherever," Len answered, shrugging only one shoulder as he bent down to unlace his sneakers. Apparently, Piko complied, because for a few oddly awkward seconds, the only noises in the room were the rustling of fabric and the cacophony of intersecting voices coming from the TV in the living area and the radio in the kitchen.

"Miku is here already, but Luka got caught up at work and probably won't be able to make it before eight, by the way," Rin breached the silence, already halfway into the kitchen by the time she stopped speaking. At the last second, she halted and, with a quick gaze over her shoulder, added, "she's kinda miffed about it. Try cheering her up."

"Thanks for the warning," Len grumbled, then turned around to look at Piko who was busily lacing his now off boots back up. "Don't you want to leave that for when you're about to go home? They're easier to lace when you're wearing them."

"I know," Piko ground out, fastening the left boot's laces even further. "I'm just— I feel a bit out of place, is all." His expression soured even further after that, but he, at least, left his shoes alone and instead picked up his ominous plastic bag in order to fiddle around with that. "Also, I think I got off on the wrong foot with your sister, so that's a thing."

"You worry too much," Len replied lightly and beckoned for Piko to follow him into the living area. "She's a bit awkward around strangers. But with Miku as a catalyst, you'll be fine. Trust me, she's the most socially competent person I know."

"Wow," Piko said, completely deadpan,"coming from you, that _sure_ means a lot."

* * *

The five family-sized pizzas awkwardly balanced on their tiny coffee table truly were excessive. But the fact that Miku was eyeing them with the expression of a woman who had braved the desert for weeks on end, only to be presented with the prospect of her favourite food, kind of got Len sold on the matter.

"They look really good," Piko commented, apparently still caught up between being a good guest and acting natural. Knowing him better than the other two, Len found his 'best behaviour' somewhat amusing. But, in the very least, the compliment illicited a smile from Rin.

"Thank you," she said, sounding genuinely pleased. "I hope they taste just as good!"

Miku smacked her palms together at that. "We won't know unless we try them!" she exclaimed, throwing Rin a blinding smile as if asking for approval. When she received a nod, she let out a quick little whoop and declared, "time to eat, then!"

They all started out with a single piece; pepperoni for Rin, cheese and onions for Miku and Piko, tuna for Len. Eating went down in a civilised manner at least; Miku did as advertised and kept conversation going easily and comfortably, slowly but surely making Piko loosen up a bit. And when he complimented Rin's cooking again after finishing his fifth piece of pizza, he was pretty much _adopted_ into the family right there and then. Len was happy about how well he fit in.

"I'm full!" Miku declared happily, patting her stomach while sinking back into the couch. "Is it time for the speech yet?"

"Speech?" Piko whispered to Len, obviously confused.

"The Lonely Hearts Club Meeting, a Valentine's tradition," Rin replied before Len had the chance to. "We've been doing it since our last year of middle school and continued doing it, even after Miku wasn't single anymore. And because it's an official thing, it needs a speech for an intro."

Piko blinked, then shrugged. "Is it really something that serious?"

This time, Miku replied. "Nah," she said. "But it's still fun to pretend it is."

Rin rose to her feet at that. "I'll go get the champagne."

* * *

The speech was embarrassing, alright, full of mock-sentimentality and Miku and Rin pretending to cry at several points. At some point, Len had brought out their copy of Uno and asked Piko to play while the girls wrapped up their little spiel.

Two rounds of internal screaming and Piko hogging all the +4 cards later, a wayward cork almost hit Len in the head while he was setting up for round three. "Sorry!" Rin yelped while trying to stuff her fingers down the neck of the foaming champagne bottle.

"That was an assassination attempt if I've ever seen one," Piko said, his eyes wide in surprise.

Len eyed his sister. "Were you trying to kill me?" he asked, putting down the cards he'd been in the middle of shuffling. Rin threw him a quick thumbs up with her sopping wet hand. "Okay. Yeah, that was an assassination attempt."

Miku snorted an undignified laugh. Then, however, she went rigid. "Oh, right," she said, as though she'd just remembered something important. "Piko-chan, can you even drink? Are you twenty already?"

Piko sat up straighter at that, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a huff. "I'm twenty-three, thank you very much," he replied, not so subtly offended, being perceived as being much younger than he was.

But, because Miku was Miku, she pretended not to notice, instead grinning brightly. "We're the same age, then!" she cheered before snagging the first champagne flute to be filled. "Let's toast on that alone!"

"Wait up until someone else has something to toast you with," Rin chided and poured two more glasses. The last one was filled with sparkling water instead; she prompty passed that one to Len.

"You don't drink?" Piko asked as he picked up one of the other glasses. Len felt the back of his neck flush.

"My stomach doesn't agree with it that much, so I rarely do," he mumbled, lips going to the rim of the glass only so his speech would be muffled even further. But Piko didn't seem judgemental at all- rather, he smiled that soft, serene smile of his, all while shrugging nonchalantly and—

"Fuck, I totally forgot!"

Immediately, Piko jammed his glass down on the table and sprung to his feet, scrambling for his long-forgotten, ominous plastic bag. Rin looked at Len for an explaination, but, sadly, he could supply no such thing.

It wasn't necessary, however, for Piko returned only seconds later with a bouquet under each arm. "I thought I'd bring some flowers I bought extra for Valentine's, but I forgot about them over dinner," he told them, holding the bouquets out towards Miku and Rin. "One for each household, as a thank you for having me over."

Miku gingerly took the flowers that were, as far as Len could tell, a bit mangled, and stared at them in awe. "They're so pretty," she cooed, carefully stroking the petals of a pale pink rose; her bouquet was very pink-lasty in general, with the only other prominent colour being white.

The bouquet meant for Rin and Len was more vivid. It was all bright golds and vibrant reds. Red as Rin's face, if Len was seeing things right, actually. "Thank you," she breathed, eyes the size of dinner plates as she owlishly admired the flowers. "You didn't have to, but they're very lovely."

"And you thought you got off on the wrong foot with her," Len laughed, nudging Piko in the side with his elbow. The florist scoffed and nudged right back, lips pursed in order to hide a smile.

"Alright," Miku declared, filling her regular glass with a generous amount of tap-water before putting the flowers in, "let's toast. Not on the Lonely Hearts Club, though." She emphasised it by gripping her champagne glass again.

"Oh?" Rin asked, just as she was busy copying Miku's idea for storing flowers.

"Yes," Miku nodded and raised her glass, waiting for the rest to join her over the middle of the coffee table. "This toast is to Piko-chan, who totally needs to come over more!"

The rims of their champagne flutes clinked melodically; almost as melodic as Piko's bashful little laugh.

* * *

Len had left the room for five minutes.

 _Five._

 _Fucking._

 _Minutes._

And yet, by the time he came back, Miku was leaning heavily into Piko with her arm slung around his shoulders. The both of them had, apparently, abandoned the champagne flutes in favour of shot glasses and plastic beakers (which were, no doubt, a preemtive measure by Rin to protect their mugs and regular glasses) and they were quite obviously beyond the tipsy state Len had left them in.

Rin was merely sitting there, pretending to rearrange the bottles of- _oh_ , tequila (that explained the abused-looking lemon), vodka and orange juice and cheap champagne- amidst the pizza leftovers. Her grin was betraying her, however. Len was pretty sure his sister relished in getting others drunk and watching them descend into incoherency.

"What happened to them?" Len asked Rin as he sat down next to her on the ground. His sister merely shrugged.

"They bet on who could do the most tequila shots in a minute without dying," she replied and eyed all the pizza with a Luka-will-have-to-eat-this-when-she-gets-here-expression. Then, she sighed. "Piko won. Now they're besties."

Apparently, Miku noticed Len's comeback that very second. "Lenny! Len-Len! My boy! Hey!" she shouted, making Piko, whose ear was right by her mouth, flinch. "Didya know that your boy plays for my team? He plays for my team! It's the best team! So hooray, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Len asked. The one reply he got was a brief 'oh my god' before Miku curled in on herself while trying to stifle her giggles. Piko went down with her, what with her arm still being snugly curled around his shoulders. His shaking ribcage indicated that he was laughing as well, though. "How did they manage to get this drunk in five minutes?"

Rin shrugged. "Six tequila shots and one cup of straight vodka do that to you," she answered, sounding decidedly uninterested. Len was pretty sure his jaw hit the ground, though.

"That much?"

Rin looked up towards the clock, humming in thought. "And it's not even eight yet," she mused as she stared at the residual liquid at the bottom of her glass.

* * *

"I swear, the Lonely Hearts Club gets worse every year," Luka sighed, looking about ten years older, as she took in the sight of her sleeping girlfriend with a pinched expression.

"Sorry," mumbled Piko into his glass of water. Len had taken away the alcohol after Miku had fallen asleep (much to Rin's disappointment) and had banished him from drinking anything but water ever since. ("We need to get you home, after all," he'd said and apparently, Piko was left reasonable enough to accept that.)

Once more, Luka sighed. "No, it's not your fault. She gets like that, at times," she replied, taking a piece of now-soggy pizza before violently biting off a large chunk. Her brows remained furrowed, even as she chewed, and only when she swallowed did she allow her face to relax. "She needs to let go and be irresponsible at times, I feel," Luka muttered, sweeping her eyes over Miku's form with a look of unguarded fondness.

"You're both too serious," Rin said, twirling her champagne flute around pensively. Luka slumped forward, putting the pizza down in favour of rubbing little circles against her temples. Len decided to pat her back sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry for being so late, though," Luka mumbled, her loose hair falling around her face like a curtain. "I'm a bad friend and an even worse girlfriend."

"Miku loves you lots though," a surprisingly coherent Piko objected- and quite vehemently, too. Luka blinked at him with glassy, tired eyes before looking back down at the table. "Those two are my witnesses, they were there, too," he went on, pointing at Rin and Len. "She said that she missed you, and that she loved how you make time for her, even though you're busy and that you're very nice and beautiful and... uh..."

"Thank you," Luka stopped him with a chuckle. She gave him a grateful little smile before reaching out to pat his head. "Piko-kun, was it? I'm grateful that you remembered her drunk ramblings for me."

"That wasn't the _drunk_ rambling part yet," Rin informed her and downed half a glass of champagne in one go. "That was while she was still sober."

Luka stared at her for a second, shock written all across her features.

Then came the tears.

* * *

 **a/n: sorry this took so long, but at least this contains everything and then some and is also 2k+ words; also my old screen caught on fire last week and i don't have the latest version of this fic on my lappy, so i had to wait until i got a new one.**


	17. Chapter 17

"— but when I came back with her bouquet, she'd already put a pot of daisies on the counter and said 'these will be all', despite having requested and _paid_ for the bouquet beforehand. So I just stood there like, 'bitch, you serious?' and apparently she was. I still forced her order on her, though, because keeping it wouldn't have been right. But, all in all, Valentine's is always wild," Piko rambled, steps perfectly in-synch with Len's; who, in all honesty, wasn't really registering the words at all.

"I see," he still said, albeit absently, and apparently, that was enough to satisfy Piko. He hummed, as though lost in thought, and let silence settle between them. Len took the opportunity to keep watching the streetlights' atrifical glow get caught in Piko's lashes and cast odd shadows across his face. He'd never seen the florist in such pitch darkness before, and now he found that the pallor of his skin positively _shone_ under harsh neon lighting.

Perhaps he just was a lost cause, at this point. Or perhaps, the alcohol had made him even more susceptible to Piko. Granted, he _himself_ hadn't had anything to drink, but Piko had downed enough for the two of them; and an inebriated Piko was a terribly loose-tongued Piko, and _that_ was just hilarious.

"Ah, you can actually see the stars tonight," the florist mused, then, abruptly throwing his head back to stare up into the nightsky. He stopped walking, instead frozen in place with his throat bared to the world, eyes alight in childish awe. "I love when they're bright enough to be seen over the lights."

Len couldn't help but smile at that. Without a doubt, Piko had had enough to drink to justify his behaviour, yet it was by no means any less fun to watch. "Do you know any constellations?" Len asked, if only to humour him, as they stood there unmovingly, the cold, dark February night nipping at every inch of their exposed skin.

Piko shook his head, yet didn't lower it. Instead, he spun in place, as if to take in more of the stars. "I'm not good with astrology or whatever," he huffed and finally- finally!- decided to stop straining his neck by craning it like it was going out of style. "I'm a sagittarius, that's all I need to know."

"I think you're confusing astronomy and astrology," Len corrected him, knowing fully well how pointless it was. Piko let out an irritated noise, seemingly opting to forego coherent speech altogether in retaliation, and began walking again.

Before long, the shop came into view. "It's quite the distance you walk every day," Piko muttered, already fumbling with his keys in his pocket. "And you do that just for me?"

Len snorted a laugh. "Sure, if that helps you sleep at night," he replied.

Piko looked him dead in the eye. "I'm so tired, I'm gonna fall asleep the second I as much as see my bed," he stated gravely as they came to stop right in front of the storefront. He got out his keys at last, unlocking the door. "Also," he continued, "I am drunk. Therefore, I am not responsible."

"Responsible for what exactly?" Len wondered, searching Piko's flushed face for an answer. The answer he got came in the form of an impish grin, before _that_ particular answer was replaced by another one: a set of chilled fingers grasping his jaw and one pair of heated, wet lips pressing against his cheek.

Len's mind went blank.

"Good night, Len," Piko uttered quickly and slammed the glass door behind him with so much force, it was a miracle it didn't at least crack.


	18. Chapter 18

Len spent a grand total of two minutes looking for Piko's doorbell.

"Today just _has_ to be a Sunday, doesn't it," he muttered to himself, inspecting every nook and cranny of the storefront. Waltzing into the store would have been a lot easier- maybe awkward, sure, but not as awkward as deliberately seeking Piko out to talk, one on one.

Len had spent a long time contemplating what to do, that previous night. He had tossed and turned with all the what-ifs and what-if-nots his buzzing mind had kept shooting at him, but, in the end, he had settled for the easiest, least dramatic solution: meet up with Piko in person and talk about it like adults.

(And well, if Piko didn't remember anything, which Len somehow doubted, he would still bite the bullet and confess, if only to get that out of the way. Because, honestly, last night might have messed with his mind a bit, but it had also just about pulverised his fear of rejection.)

Right next to a small, rusty mailbox sat an equally as rusty metal plate, a flat black button poking out in the middle. It was seriously hard to see from _anywhere_ , lest you knew where to look. Len huffed a frustrated breath before ringing it.

For a while, nothing happened.

Then, from a weathered looking speaker, just above the button, came a tinny, angry, "what."

"It's me," Len said, keeping his tone light despite his stomach somersaulting at the sound of Piko's voice. From the speaker came nothing but static for a few seconds. Len frowned. "May I come up?" he tried again.

More static, at first. After a while, Piko sighed very, _very_ audibly. "Fine, I'll be a minute," he relented before the speaker went out with an overly loud crackling noise. Len could do little more than stand in front of the glass door, staring into the unlit store for a minute or so. Then, from the back, emerged Piko, still in sleep clothes and looking like hell warmed over. "I'm not hungover, shut up," he greeted Len, squinting against the bright light of the outside world.

"Of course not," Len agreed, stepping into the shop and closing the door behind him. Piko quickly locked it again, then grabbed Len's wrist and pulled him along- through the store, up the stairs to his apartment, all the way into the kitchen- before he was shoved down to sit on a bright orange plastic chair.

Piko sat across from him, only a small glass table seperating them. In front of him stood an open jar of pickles with a fork sticking out of it- apparently his (hangover-) breakfast, then.

"Do you, uh..." Len began, squirming in his seat. It would be rude to be too straightforward, he knew that. He should've just gone for some roundabout things, first. Ease into the topic. Nothing too direct. So _of course_ , when he opened his mouth again, what came out was not some eloquent, casual thing to say, but rather, "Do you remember that you kissed me, last night?"

Piko sighed, stalled by fishing for a pickle, and, ultimately, nodded. "I've never had a blackout or anything," he replied, looking somewhat sick. "And... I'm truly sorry. I should have known better than to do something like that. Especially since you probably don't exactly appreciate me coming onto you."

"No," Len said, shaking his head, "I'm glad you did, because I really like you."

"Huh?"

"I like you," Len repeated, "a lot. As in, I fell for you. Like, _like_ -like. Uh..."

Piko stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "You sure you're not just saying this to appease me?" he asked.

Len nodded, meeting Piko's eye to emphasise the truthfulness of his confession. "Yes," he answered. Then, "I like you," just because he could.

"Okay, wow," Piko breathed out, letting his gaze drop to the table. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. "I didn't really think this would happen. Actually, I already drafted a formal apology letter. This... only ever happens in the movies, with feelings being requited and..." His eyes slid shut at that. He took a deep breath. _Squeezed_ his already shut eyes as though bracing for impact. "I guess I gotta... I mean... I like you too. Fuck."

That earned him a snort from Len. "Don't swear when saying that," he laughed, receiving only a scoff in reply. He put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."

"So, what do we do now?" Piko asked, blinking his eyes open again only to end up squinting against the sudden light.

"I mean," Len began, "we could... always get you something other than pickles to eat?"

Apparently, that was the right thing to do for the moment- to postpone everything related to serious emotional discussion to another time, to leave zukunftsmusik like the possibility of dating for later- because Piko _slumped_ in relief before nodding eagerly, like some sort of broken bobble-head figure. "Make me pancakes," he demanded, then groaned and clutched his head. "Fucking hangovers, man. Can't even nod."

Len bit his lip in order not to laugh. He stood up, turning towards Piko's pristine white kitchenette with his hands on his hips. "I'll fix you some. Just tell me where you hide your stuff."

* * *

 **a/n: if you expected drama, you've come to the wrong place. len actively avoids drama. len protects wholesome, dorky fluff. len is probably not how i intended him, back when i wrote what now is chapters one, two and four. who needs consistency anyways. he's still a little ray of sunshine. our little calendula boi.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

"Do you want to," Piko began, on some morning to a slow day while looking utterly constipated, "y'know."

(Len did not know.)

So he huffed a sigh and glared. "Oh, you _know_ ," he then tried again, setting his mug down on the counter just to start waving his hands around in wide, aimless gestures. It didn't really help his case; if anything, it only made it seem like Piko himself had no idea what he was trying to get at.

"Use words, Piko. Otherwise, I'll never understand," Len encouraged him, doing his hardest not to sound patronising (which he, apparently, did a pretty shit job at, considering how Piko looked about ready to choke him).

" _Date_ , Len. Do you want to _date_?" he asked (groaned) and slammed one palm down on the counter for emphasis. Len stared at him- his furrowed brows and reddened cheeks- and nodded.

"If you'll have me," he replied. Piko pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise," he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and picked his mug back up. "You know what you're getting into, don't you?"

Len let his gaze drop to the floor, as if to hide the embarrassed flush that had already begun to creep up his neck. "Even if I didn't, Miku and Luka already gave me the talk on these matters," he mumbled and fiddled with his fingers in his lap. It really had been a strange affair; Len had probably suffered some sort of trauma.

"They gave you... _The Talk_?" Piko asked, sounding beyond incredulous. Len looked up, only to be greeted by a face of absolute glee. "Holy shit, man. You're like, twenty—"

"Twenty-one."

"You're twenty-one, and no one ever gave you The Talk?"

Len's face felt like it was on fire. "Of course I was given The Talk at some point!" he replied, maybe a bit too loudly, and promptly hid his burning cheeks in his hands. Goddamn misunderstandings. "They just gave me a heads-up on same-sex relationships. God!"

Piko laughed and reached across the counter to ruffle Len's hair. "Your lesbian fairy godmothers sure do look out for you," he cooed, grinning from ear to ear. Len let go of his face and blew him a raspberry; Piko blew him one right back. "But, now that I know that you are so very, _ver_ y well-educated on the matter of dating guys..."

He retracted his hand from the top of Len's head and held it out for him to shake as though they were making a deal. "Boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends," Len agreed, and shook the offered hand, because the formal gesture wasn't weird at all.


	20. Chapter 20

Piko had barely gotten his shoes off before Miku dragged him inside by the wrist, already off on some tangent about something she'd seen on TV. (Len genuinely wondered where her fascination with him had stemmed from; drinking each other under the table one time usually wasn't the most solid foundation for a friendship, as far as he could tell.) As things were, however, Len could do little else but stare at his boyfriend's discarded, dirt-caked Vans and sigh.

Just then, Rin's head poked out from the kitchen. "Where's Piko?" she asked, craning her neck as if to see whether he was hiding behind her brother. Len wordlessly pointed in the direction of the living room, causing Rin to let out a displeased little noise. "I told her to leave him be, I swear," she said before beckoning for her brother to follow her back inside the kitchen.

The counter was littered with bowls- probably more of them than they owned- and most of the food inside them looked far from apetising. Len could identify guacamole and hummus among way weirder dips and he was somewhat sure he'd seen some of those salad-looking things in fancy vegan stores before. Err. Maybe. "Luka made these, apparently," Rin stated, obviously and blatantly disgusted by the bowls' contents, "because she wanted to try out cooking organically or something."

Nodding only to show that he'd heard, Len stared the wild mix of goops and gunks for a few more seconds before swallowing hard. "We do have the normal stuff, too, don't we?" he asked, throat thick. "Like, popcorn, potato chips. Candy. Anything."

Rin patted his arm sympathetically, then grinned. "I bought a big batch of matcha-flavoured KitKat for the occasion," she said with wide eyes before opening their smallest kitchen cabinet to reveal a stash of all kinds of unhealthy and unorgangic. "Really, totally appreciating Luka's efforts, but we can't possibly put only that biodegradable junk out there, can we?"

Len hummed a grave affirmative. "Let's take some safe looking dips and veggie sticks and call it a day?" he asked, nodding towards the mess on the counter. "She won't be insulted, will she?"

Rin exhaled, then shook her head. "Maybe a bit, but we can still try them later on, should she insist," she answered, then began balancing an array of items (mostly junk food, praise her) in her arms. "You take some, too," she instructed before disappearing from the kitchen. Len did as told and squeezed a bag of chips under each of his arms, then pinched the rims of several of Luka's bowls between his fingers; and well, if one or two of them just so happened to slip from his grasp...

* * *

"—no, he needs to know his opponent's tells," Piko was busy explaining to Miku as Len entered the living room. Apparently, they had changed the channel to something anime and Miku was apparently not getting the logistics of the show, whereas Piko and- quite surprisingly- Luka were trying to clear things up.

"But isn't that pretty far-fetched?" she asked, crossing her arms and glaring at the TV as though it had personally offended her. Len just set the bowls down on their coffee table, once again dwarved by the array of food balanced on top of it.

"Look, darling," Luka tried, this time, sneakily slinking an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders while using her other to indicate towards the show, "most things in this are convoluted and nonsensical, so just accept that this boy needs to know what tells people have when they're scared and then he can trap them inside the paper."

Focused on elaborating the workings of anime, Luka wasn't paying attention to how few of her things the twins had brought in. As if to confirm with Rin, Len sought his sister's eye, only to find her, too, engrossed in the programme on TV. And only then did Len turn around to look at what they were watching.

"Miku," he began, somewhere past even exasperated, "are you trying to make sense of Jojo?"

And apparently, that question was so funny that Piko and Rin promptly dissolved into giggles.

("I never watched Part 4 before!" Miku screeched, red in the face with embarrassment, while trying to hide her blush in Luka's shoulder.)

("No one's judging you for it," Rin shrugged and crammed a handful of potato chips into her mouth, swallowing them in one go without chewing. "It's just that it's weird that you took everything up until this point in stride, but you draw the line at sheets of paper.")

* * *

The movie of the night was, as decided by Rin and Miku, some blockbuster-length special of some kind of TV drama both of them loved.

"Can't we go back to watching fabulous burly men beating stuff up?" Piko whispered to Len, barely past the five minute mark, only to get immediately shushed by Rin. So, as if not to upset the girls any further, Len just shook his head and, tentatively, offered Piko his side to lean into.

The wide-eyed look he received in reply was almost comical, in a way. Yet, only a second or two of consideration later, Piko decided to stiffly press himself against Len. It took another few minutes for him to fully relax, and only then did Len realise that it was because he had fallen alseep.

The movie drew to a close at snail's pace, with its agonisingly shallow plot and endless, exaggerated list of clichés. Len wished he'd followed his boyfriend's example and conked out before he'd gotten somewhat invested in Miyuki-chan's plights, but alas, here he was.

"Is he still breathing?" Rin asked as the credits rolled, indicating towards Piko's limp form against Len's side. He actually did look kind of dead. Perhaps work had been more tiresome, these past days. Or perhaps he just didn't overindulge in his murder coffee that day.

"If he's dead, he at least hasn't gone cold yet," Len replied, watching the nigh inperceptible, rhythmical rise and fall of Piko's chest as he slept away. He was scowling, even in his sleep- it was ridiculously in-character, somehow.

"I can't believe our Lenny-Boy has a boyfriend now," Miku sighed, resting her chin on Luka's shoulder, wrapping her arms around her middle like a very clingy octopus. "He's so smitten! Look at how he's looking at him! Look at how _cute_ they are!"

"As if you have any right to judge," Luka chuckled softly, turning her head to kiss her girlfriend's temple; Miku promptly took the opportunity and craned her neck so she could steal a kiss to the lips.

"He has their blessings, I think," Rin whispered, watching with a somewhat exhausted expression as Miku and Luka got wrapped up in each other. "For all it's worth," she went on, eyes flicking up to meet her brother's, "he has mine, too."

Piko dozed on, entirely unperturbed.

* * *

 **a/n: hahaha. uh. hey there, good people. good people whom i've kept waiting way long. hey. (don't judge me, uni kicked my ass.) i'm back to deliver to you fresh pikolens feat. jojo memes. (how the fuck does that stand work how did he get food in the paper was the food scared was the taxi also scared or can he just absorb object you know what i think he can araki what the fuck)**

 **in other news, idk when i'll update again but don't think i'm not writing anymore or anything. there's lots of half-written installements for thise here story**


	21. Chapter 21

"So, uh... are you free this Sunday?" Len asked, forcibly wedging a fourth plastic pot of daffodils into a small metal étagère. He was pretty sure each of these containers could hold only three, but Piko had insisted that a fourth would fit- snugly, but it would fit.

Some earth had already spilled onto the floor.

"Oh my," Piko gasped, placing a dirty hand on his cheek for dramatic effect, "are you asking me out on a _date_?"

Len shrugged, returning to glaring at his now mangled flowerpot. "I hoped it could be one, but if you don't want to, that's fine, too," he said, then tried fitting that stupid, _stupid_ daffodil into the container once more- to no avail, naturally.

"No, I think it's nice. Let's go," Piko replied, lost in the task of plucking wiltered blossoms from his bright pink primroses. (Len was somewhat proud of the fact that he could identify them so easily by now.) "If we're dating, we gotta go on dates, after all," he added, if only as an afterthought.

"Where do you wanna go, then?" Len asked and finally- _finally!_ \- got the damn pot in there. Not that it looked healthy, with the bulbs squished together like that, but at least he'd gotten the job done.

"Can I pick anywhere at all?" Piko asked in return, yet never took his eyes off the flowers. But before Len could answer- reassure him that, yes, sure, anywhere is fine, as long as it's realistic- he went on, "I'd love to go to the arcade, then. I haven't been to one in ages."

"That's the last thing I expected you to pick, honestly," Len replied, wiping his dirty hands on his pants before realising his error. Oh well, he'd still have time to change, later on. "Are you even into gaming?"

The grin spreading across Piko's face as he looked up pretty much answered the question already. "Oh, sweet summer child," he laughed, a bit manically, "I used to _own_ gaming, back in school. I might've gotten a bit rusty over time, but I'm confident I could still destroy most casuals, no problem."

"'Casuals,' he says," Len muttered, mostly to himself, and pulled out his phone, opening the calendar app. "When should we go? I was thinking early afternoon, but…"

"Sure, that's fine by me. Around one should be good," Piko agreed, attention shifting back to his primroses.

Len added the date into his app, chose the most obnoxious ringtone for the reminder before pocketing his phone again. "And we'll have all the time in the world to grab something to eat, afterwards," he mused, gaze flicking towards the counter.

"And also," Piko began, obviously trying to keep his eyes on the flowers to look innocent, "it gives you time to recover for when I wipe the floor with you."

* * *

"I can't believe you," Len whispered, his throat dry as parchment. He'd thought he knew what it felt like to be completely and utterly exhausted- both physically and mentally- but today had taught him that he'd known not a single damn thing yet.

And Piko- goddamn Piko- did nothing but laugh that stupid, pretty laugh of his while swinging their linked hands between them as they walked. "You know, I did warn you. It's not my fault you took me lightly," he sing-songed as though he hadn't crushed his boyfriend's ego in one afternoon before taking a bite out of the crêpe he held in his free hand. "Stop moping already."

Len pouted. "I'm not moping," he mumbled and puffed his cheeks out. Piko thoughtlessly let out a snort at that- right into the whipped cream on top of his crêpe. Naturally, a good portion of that cream was then airborne, heading straight for Piko's face.

He glared at his pancake as though it had personally offended him.

"Sorry?" Len somehow managed to choke out before he had to slap a hand across his mouth in order not to laugh.

"All is well," Piko exhaled, then turned to look at Len with the single most dramtic solemn expression of all time. "But you know," he went on, letting go of the hand he'd been holding onto, still, "I'm a bit disappointed in myself. Having my face creamed on on my first official date is kinda slutty."

Len proceeded to choke on his spit for a full two minutes.


	22. Chapter 22

On some level, Len was probably aware of the existence of White Day. And maybe it had mattered to him, back in school, when his shoe locker had overflown with chocolates on Valentine's because the girls knew he'd give them some in return and, _oh, did you know? Kagamine makes the best chocolates!_

So, yes. He had been actively aware of its existence, a few years ago; he didn't really care much for it, nowadays, however.

Which is why he was surprised when Piko looked about ready to commit first degree murder on the very sunny morning of the 14th of March.

"Could you _please_ ," he hissed through clenched teeth the second Len set foot inside the store, "mop the floor around here?"

Because, for whatever reason, the floor was a giant mess of spilled soil, water and a wild disarray of stray petals; Len felt that asking how it had come down to this might have only served to unnerve Piko further. "Sure," he therefore replied, already stepping around the biggest dirt as to not spread it even further and making a beeline for the corner Piko kept his cleaning supplies in. And then, because Len apparently had no self-restraint, he asked, "What happened here, though?"

"Miscalculations," the florist mumbled, face pressing into the countertop. "Had to pull an all-nighter after all. Fucking White Day, man," he added just as Len got busy getting the mop ready.

"Well, I mean, you were already somewhat busy on Valentine's," Len mused, picking up a bucket and moving past his boyfriend to retrieve some water from a little sink in the back, "and I'd assume girls don't give boys flowers as often as boys get girls a nice bouquet."

"Yes, I am aware," came a dry reply, and a second later Piko was by his side, eyes fixed on the steady stream of water the second Len turned the faucet on. "I've been doing this for a year or three, in case you didn't know."

And even though he said that, Len doubted he was actually accustomed to this. Piko looked ready to keel over, with eyebags so dark, they reminded Len of Miku's smudged mascara rather than a natural discolouration of his skin. Of course he'd seen him work himself to the ground before- Christmas especially had been hard on him, he remembered- but Len wondered if his timid attempts at supporting and cheering him up from back then would still work their magic even now.

He turned the faucet off and turned to look down at his boyfriend, who, while so obviously battling sleep, had begun swaying on his feet. "You want a hug?" Len offered, and, okay, wow, he was getting a bit hot in the face, there.

Piko stared at him for a second or two, apparently finding it troublesome to stay standing on his feet while simultaneously comprehending speech. But when it sunk in, before Len knew what was happening, his boyfriend was already wrapped around him, arms tightly hugging his chest and face buried in his shoulder.

"I take that as a yes," Len wheezed out when he was squeezed tightly. Nevertheless, they stayed like that for a while- entirely unproductive, in essence, what with the store looking like a war had waged there only hours ago, but still nice and very much needed- before letting go of each other.

"Thanks," Piko breathed as he stepped back, managing a weak smile. "We… I should get back to work." And as if to emphasise how much of a bad idea that was, he promptly staggered. "Well, fuck," he groaned, and Len almost laughed.

"How about," he began, grabbing Piko by the shoulders before steering him towards the stairs up to his apartment, "you take a quick power nap and leave the cleaning to me? I know where everything goes, so if you don't have any more bouquets that need fixing…"

"Can I really do that to you?" the florist asked, though his feet were climbing the first step of the stairs already as if _they_ , at least, had agreed with Len's proposal long before their owner.

"Sure," Len assured and, maybe for emphasis or because he was a sappy idiot, he pressed a quick kiss to Piko's temple. "H-happy White Day, by the way," he forced out, and in some distant parallel universe where he hadn't stuttered, it might have been smooth.

* * *

 **a/n: just to clarify, on white day, you return what you received on valentine's with a similar nicety of your own; piko gave len a sloppy smooch, so...  
**


	23. Chapter 23

For some reason, Len found himself spending his Saturday afternoon at an event he had, for lack of understanding, simply dubbed 'flower convention'.

"I can't tell if you're awed or bored. It could be both, honestly. In equal measures," Piko said, steps perfectly in synch with his boyfriend's as they made their way through the rows of different stalls and displays. It felt like a festival of sorts- the type they'd had back in their hometown at the temple, Len thought- except that, instead of selling snacks and offering games, these people were trying to sell you very… _artsy_ garden decorations and weird hybrid seeds.

He must have been making a face, thinking about this place like that, because the next thing Len knew, Piko was squishing his cheeks. "Hey, no need to look that sour about things," he chided, now standing still amidst the throng of people moving past them without paying them any mind at all. Then, Piko's hands fell and his expression softened. "I don't want you to have to force yourself to be here for my sake. Things don't work like that."

And, admittedly, Len didn't know what to say to that. He'd been caught completely off guard, being told something so sincere while standing in front of a booth selling slug repellent. "No, it's nothing like that. I don't hate it here or anything," he mumbled, reaching for Piko's hand as though holding it would ground him. "I came along because you asked, sure. But… I do enjoy spending time with you, you know? So this is nice."

The back of his neck and the tips of his ears felt like they were on fire. Len wondered if, perhaps, some people passing them were already contemplating calling an ambulance for the poor boy so obviously running a high fever. But Piko— with cheeks as pink as his lips, both stretched by a smile, he squeezed Len's hand.

"Let's fuck around and make fun of people's wares, then. To make this more fun," he said, eyes bright and pretty smile slipping into a lopsided smirk, and Len really, _really_ felt like kissing him right there, in front of the stupid slug repellent booth. But before he could act on that particular impulse, Piko had already made use of their intertwined fingers and pulled Len along as he headed straight for a stall selling hand-made clay figurines, gesturing towards them as though to say _look at them_.

"Oh, these sure are," Len began before inhaling sharply, trying to cut himself off when he noticed the stall's tenant give the two of them a funny look. "They are really… lovely."

"Definitely! Look at the shapeliness of this one's face," Piko praised with so much saccharine fake-excitement, Len was vaguely reminded of infomercials. The figure he had picked for them to examine was, with a lot of leeway given in the name of abstraction, human in appearance; its face was a glob-like mess, with a thick nose and molten-looking cheeks under holes no bigger than the indents of a toothpick for eyes.

Next to it was a brightly coloured, misshapen sort of house with way too many windows cut into it. "This one surely pays homage to European abstract art of the early nineteen-hundreds, right?" Len tried to follow up, inclining his head towards the offensively ugly clay decoration.

Piko gasped in (not very real sounding) awe. "I can totally see the Hundertwasser in it, now that you say that!" he exclaimed, leaning into his boyfriend as though swooning. But it just so happened that that last comment earned them the meanest case of stink-eye Len had ever received and before he knew it, they were already getting chased away by a very tired saleswoman.

"Amazing," Piko laughed, teeth bared and eyes bright as they stopped two stalls further down the line. For the second time that day, Len was overcome with the desire to kiss him, square on the mouth for the whole world to see- honestly, he must have looked like a lovestruck fool. But Piko just squeezed his hand tightly, never having let go of it since Len had grabbed it back at the slug repellent booth, and huffed another soft laugh. "I like that expression a lot better than your frowny face from a few minutes ago," he said, looking at his boyfriend with nothing but fondness. "I'm glad upsetting that poor lady was all it took."

"Well, I told you I wasn't really bothered by being here in the first place," Len insisted weakly. Piko shrugged and squeezed his hand once more before dropping it at last.

"Let's grab something to eat before we go on," he said and walked on ahead, because he'd already decided.


	24. Chapter 24

"Who are you texting?" Len asked, watching Piko type away on his phone with way too much vigour for an early morning. It wasn't that he was particularly curious about his boyfriend's conversation partners or anything; more than that, he was worried that something was wrong. Perhaps his mom had gotten sick, or a delivery wouldn't come on time, or—

"Miku," Piko replied, still engrossed in his phone, and well, there went all of Len's worst-case-scenarios.

Then, the words sunk in. "Why Miku?" he pried, teetering on the edge of incredulous. Because, really, what did he have to do with her? What _urgent_ business did he have with her? Maybe Rin had been right, after all, and getting drunk that one time and then bonding over a popular anime series really was all it took for these two to click. But it still seemed unfair that Len never got off to quite an easy a start as that with Piko like that. Granted, he'd gotten to know him differently, still, and over the course of their developing friendship, he'd managed to slowly and sweetly fall in lo—

Okay, so _that_ word still felt a bit too big.

Piko looked up from his phone and had the decency not to comment on the burning of Len's face. "I kinda asked her for nice date-spots where we wouldn't earn weird glances. Figured she would know about things like that," he said, and now it apparently was his turn to go red-faced.

"O-oh," was all Len managed to get out, blinking dumbly. "I… uh. I thought something bad had come up and that was why you were on your phone." _And I also got irrationally jealous of Miku for a second there_ , though he didn't bother saying that part.

"That's sweet of you, but nothing of the sort," Piko assured him and put his phone down. "You free this Saturday?"

"I think so," Len replied, but checked his calendar app, just to be sure. "Where are we going?"

Piko grinned, tapping his lip in an exaggeratedly secretive manner. "You'll see, but I'm sure you'll like it," he answered and threw in a wink, too, for good measure.

And Len realised- no, remembered, rather- that the way he and Piko were with each other suited them just fine.


	25. Chapter 25

"It's been getting warmer out," Piko said, idly wrapping some thin wire around a thick wooden stick. Len only hummed in reply, eyes fixed on his boyfriend's slender fingers working away with practiced ease. "Well, I guess it _is_ April already," Piko continued his musings, his wrists moving in hypnotising tandem.

"Spring's nice," Len mumbled, if only to add anything at all. Lazy mornings like this one were getting rarer, with temperatures rising- they'd been busier than usual with things like restocking and decorating, now that springtime had come around. People were falling in love with nature all over again. (According to Piko, it was a recurring thing that was set to repeat every year.)

The sunlight spilling into the store, bright and early, bathed everything in a warm glow. It was an easy feeling to get lost in, Len supposed; yet, he was lost elsewhere. Some of the light had gotten caught in Piko's endless lashes, and then scattered across his cheeks like glass shards.

"You're staring, you know," the florist sighed and put the now wound-up wire down. As he looked at Len, the sun caught in his eyes this time, tinting them different shades of ocean green. Len wondered if Piko realised that _not_ -staring was too difficult a task for him to accomplish.

"Sorry, you're just very pretty," he replied, as earnest as he could get, only to be rewarded with blush-stained, bashful smile. God, Piko's smile was the prettiest thing. Len couldn't help but wonder- on a very fleeting thought, at that- what it would feel like to have it pressed against a smile of his own.

"May I kiss you?"

Piko blinked at him owlishly for a second. Then, he cast his gaze downwards, whilst his tongue darted out from between his lips to wet them. Naturally, _that_ particular action attracted Len's attention. "I mean," Piko began, and peeked back up, "it's not like I'm opposed."

Len swallowed hard, then nodded. "The first one is supposed to be awkward, right?" he breathed, leaning forward just a bit, inch by inch. Piko nodded absentmindedly with his expression dazed and his eyes glued to Len's mouth. "Okay, then," he tried adding, but the sounds were swallowed up by Piko's lips softly pressing against his.

They were rough and chapped, yet not at all unpleasant to feel, Len found, while the breaths they shared between the two of them tasted vaguely of toothpaste and too strong coffee. Piko's nose poked his cheek, as his hand, for lack of a purpose, clasped Len's on the countertop.

"Alright?" Piko whispered the second they parted, still close enough for Len to feel his lashes fanning across his cheek.

"Very alright," he replied, hushed and breathless, as if not to make their initimate little bubble of early sunshine and rosy cheeks burst. Piko smiled, pressing another brief kiss to Len's mouth, so quick he couldn't as much as reciprocate, before- honestly way too soon for Len's taste- backing away.

"Well, back to work I go," he sing-songed, then, and spun on his heels to tend to some flower or another, pretending that he wasn't acting giddy at all.

* * *

 **a/n: um. so. smoochie. but apart from that, i originally wanted to end this at 25 chapter, but bc of the flow, i just felt like a needed more fluff until especially the smoochies. so here we are. smoochies. i'll drag this out until chapter 30. some more fluff. then a sequel hook. bc i really? feel like i don't do this justice anymore. my writing always changes with my moods, so i usually don't write too much plot-like things bc they suffer from it. this does so quite a lot. if i go for a sequel, i'll gather my bearings proper before going into it. but yeah. 5 more chapters to go, for now.  
**


	26. Chapter 26

Len's shift at work was dragging on endlessly, as it tended to do on Thursdays. People weren't yet doing weekend shopping and it showed: where Fridays were busy (Saturdays even more so), Thursdays were stuck in some kind of limbo that left the aisles vacant and the cash register firmly shut.

But it was relaxing, in a way. Once all shelves were restocked, Len usually relaxed and let his thoughts wander to the gentle whirring of refrigerators and industrial lights. On particularly slow days, his boss- a kindly old lady with the softest smile- would send him home early. That's how slow Thursdays got.

So he almost jumped right out of his skin when, suddenly, the automatic doors slid open and a customer stepped inside the store. "Welcome!" Len half-yelled and hastily put on his Customer Service Smile. Then he waited.

It took about five minutes until the customer emerged from an aisle with a basket in hand, and Len couldn't help but startle as he realised who his customer was.

"Oh, so this is where you work part-time!" Piko's familiar voice rang out throughout the otherwise empty store. He grinned at Len as he walked up to the register, eyes roaming over his uniform. "Looking good."

Len pursed his lips and tried to will away the heat rising up his neck. "Isn't this place out of your way?" he asked weakly, trying to steer the conversation away from wherever Piko was trying to nudge it.

"Isn't my shop out of yours?" Piko countered with a little smirk as he put all of his five items on the counter. Len sighed and began ringing him up.

He felt a little out of his depth. As casual and natural as he could usually be around Piko, with the security camera filming the register at all times and his job requiring him to remain professional, just talking to his boyfriend suddenly seemed awfully difficult.

And then, as if to add insult to injury, the door behind Len clicked open and his boss poked her head out. "Kagamine-kun, would you like—oh my, excuse me! Please tend to our customer first!" she said, blushing just a bit. It was kind of adorable, Len thought, as he sent her a little smile over his shoulder whilst putting Piko's items into a plastic bag.

"Are you free tonight?" Piko suddenly asked as he placed his cash in Len's palm, letting his touch linger for longer than necessary. Len could feel a flush creeping all the way up to his ears. He wondered what his boss thought of this exchange, but fought the urge to turn around.

But before he could reply, his boss had already beaten him to the punch. "Are you two friends, by any chance?" she asked, sounding oddly excited at the prospect. _So much for that_.

Piko craned his neck to look past Len and gave the boss a polite smile. "I'd say so," he answered. "I run a flower shop a few blocks away, and as fate would have it, Len volunteered to help me out one day."

The boss looked shocked for a second before turning towards Len with an expression of complete awe on her face. "And you are still helping him? Kagamine-kun, you really are such a kind boy!" she exclaimed, eyes bright. Then, she nodded to herself, as if she had decided something. "How about you see your friend out, Kagamine-kun? It's not busy right now."

Her face was hopeful, so Len could do little but sigh and agree. He stepped out from behind the counter and Piko grabbed his bag before falling into step with him. Only once they were outside with the doors shut behind them did Len let himself deflate. He couldn't remember when he'd tensed up, but it sure felt good to loosen up again.

Piko gently brushed his fingertips across the back of Len's hand. "I didn't know you worked here," he said with an expression that bordered on apologetic. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone in. Because that sure was awkward."

At that, Len couldn't help but huff a little laugh. "Definitely," he agreed. He turned his palm up and gave Piko's hand a light squeeze. "Boss didn't seem to mind, though."

Piko snorted and pulled his hand out of Len's to cover his growing grin. "As busy as it is in there, I can't at all see why," he said. Len shook his head, allowing laughter to pour out more freely, now.

"Thursdays are cursed," he assured Piko. Then, when there was a lull in conversation, "What were you doing in the area, anyways?"

Piko shrugged one shoulder. "An errand I had to run," he answered. He sighed. Smiled. "You didn't tell me, by the way. Whether you were free tonight."

Len dragged the tip of his ratty converse over the sidewalk. "I am. I'll text Rin to make a bit more for dinner if you want some," he replied. Piko nodded, the motion causing a stray stand of hair to droop into his face. He blew at it with an offended expression. Len laughed.

 _Ah_.

The afternoon sun was blindingly bright- Len hadn't noticed up until then. The pavement was unbearably hot under his feet and the air smelled faintly of petrol and the last days of spring. Piko pushed the offending strand of hair behind his ear and stared at Len.

 _I love you._


	27. Chapter 27

The restaurant was noisy and busy, and Piko looked like he was ready to murder the kids of the couple two tables over—not that Len couldn't sympathise.

They had made the mistake of thinking the couple would leave once it got way past their children's bedtime and had, naïvely, placed their orders. But now they had finished their meals, and the kids were still there. If it weren't for the almost untouched sake Piko had ordered ("because it's easier to stomach the food"), they probably would have simply up and left already.

Len was busy rubbing his temples when he heard the distinct sound of a chopstick snapping. He looked up to see Piko already halfway out of his seat. "Bathroom," he said through gritted teeth and stiffly marched off. Len felt like slamming his head into the tabletop.

All he'd wanted was a nice, relaxing date—good food, maybe going somewhere else afterwards, maybe just hanging out together. And yet, all he'd gotten was Japan's Least Considerate Married Couple and their darling, extremely noisy two kids.

He was so caught up in lamenting his existence that he, at first, didn't notice the grubby little hands clasped around the edge of the table. "Hey Mister?" the older one of the kids asked- a boy, maybe about six, with freckles all over his face and missing a front-tooth. Len blinked down at him. He stared back unabashedly. "Where did that other person go?"

With all the patience of a saint, Len forced a smile. "He only needed to use the bathroom," he replied. Yelling at the kid wasn't fair. His parents were to blame, if anything.

"Why are you here?" the boy asked, still keeping up the uncomfortably drawn-out eye-contact.

Len felt his smile waver around the edges. "I wanted to have a nice, quiet dinner," he said and the boy nodded. Then, he kept staring wordlessly until Len felt like he was asking him to elaborate further. "Once my boyf- my _friend_ comes back, we'll leave, I think."

"Okay," the kid allowed with a nod. He had no reason to stay, but he remained exactly where he was. His gaze turned more scrutinising. "Why did you go out to eat with your friend? Can you not cook? My mom can cook."

"I can cook. We just—" and here, Len had to drag a hand across his face, "–wanted a nice, quiet evening and treat ourselves to some food."

"You're weird," the boy declared.

"Sure."

"All adults are weird."

Len wondered how he could ever make any of this up to Piko.

* * *

 **a/n: *shows up an eternity later with starbucks*  
**

 **i'm not yet dead. i will finish this in the next few days. BELIEVE IT.**


	28. Chapter 28

Slow Sunday mornings were Len's favourite by far.

He could allow himself to drift about in the haze between dream and wakefulness, where everything was warm and soft and even the sunlight seemed muted and subdued. He could roll over again and cling to the last vestiges of sleep, and reach out for a bony wrist below the covers to let the rhythm of Piko's heartbeat against his skin lull him right back to dreamland.

But he could also allow consciousness to take hold of him and just _stare_. Stare at the early light catching in the fine hairs along Piko's skin, at the slightly less defined shape of his body against that same light, at the way his lips trembled around soundless words before falling back into their natural relaxed frown and—

So, Len could stare at him for a long time.

Maybe it was a bit creepy, but he supposed that many people shared his appreciation for watching their partner sleep. Piko wasn't the most peaceful sleeper; not that it would have suited him. He talked, and occasionally he would kick him, but those were such _normal_ things that Len was sure most people did them. (He didn't even trust himself not to do them, really.)

It had been a while since he'd shared a bed with anyone, and a first that it was something to happen regularly. The fact that it frequently came without precursory sexual activity was oddly satisfying as well. Or maybe Len was just a much bigger sap than he'd ever expected himself to be.

"Stop staring at me. I can feel your eyes, you know," Piko grumbled, effectively startling Len out of his reverie. Half his face was smushed into the pillow as if to hide from the world and the general state of being awake.

"Sorry," Len replied and closed his eyes again.

Piko grumbled something unintelligible before shifting around on the bed. "You already woke me up," he said, before pressing a soft little kiss to the corner of Len's mouth. "Take responsibility."

The next second, Len made the mistake of inhaling. "Ugh, your breath stinks," he groaned, eyes blinking open again to see Piko's face hovering a few inches above his own.

"Does it, now?" Piko asked, mouth curling into a smirk, before blowing right across Len's face. Len tried turning away, but Piko pinned him down. "You woke me, you gotta pay for it some way or another."

"You're just being gross," Len said, trying his hardest not to breathe too much, "gross and petty."

Piko's lips stretched into a face-splitting grin. "Yup, that's me," he said, exhaling the words rather than actually speaking them. "And, being the fool that you are, you like me."

Len pinched his nose. "A bad move, really."

Piko laughed and pressed another stinky kiss to his lips.

* * *

 **a/n: "let's do sappy so close to the end!" "haha i lied here have morning breath."  
**

 **also, yes, kyuubey, i'm still here bc i promised i would finish this someday. also thanks for still being there yourself!**


	29. Chapter 29

Mom was as sweet as ever, over the phone. It was almost boring. In fact, Rin had already excused herself from the conversation several minutes ago, but the buzzing of the speaker-phone still echoed in Len's head even now.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Mom suddenly exclaimed, breaking the previous lull in conversation in favour of shouting. Len started and quickly looked around to see if Rin had seen him jump. The coast was clear, though. Mom went on, "You lot are still coming home for the summer, aren't you?"

"Yeah, two weeks in August," he reaffirmed. "I already told you we're bringing Miku, right?"

"I would have expected her to come along, anyways," Mom laughed and Len could almost picture her push a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd always deny the habit, even though it was so obviously there. "Anyone else you want to bring? A girlfriend, maybe?"

Her tone was teasing and of course she didn't expect an answer, but Len felt his blood run cold. Somehow, he'd avoided the topic these past few months and now that it was here, he didn't know how to react. "Haha, sure," he forced out, his throat so tight, he was honestly amazed he'd managed to say anything at all. Mom would know—she'd know something was wrong and she'd—

"Really?" she asked, her voice innocently curious. Len felt like inhaling and exhaling were becoming painful.

Better come clean, then. "Well, not exactly," he said, fidgeting his fingers. Mom would understand, surely. If anyone would understand, it would be his mother. All she would be was surprised. "I, uh… I've told you about the flower shop, yes?"

Mom hummed in affirmation. "I'm… sort of… ah, not _sort of_ , just, in general, you see… seeing Piko," Len confessed, though the words were rushed and garbled to the point where he hoped Mom couldn't understand them.

But apparently, she'd understood just fine, if her silence was anything to go by. Then, she began, "So, no girlfriend, but a boyfriend?" Len let out some noise of confirmation. She sighed. "Were you afraid to tell me just now?"

"Mom, I—"

"You really shouldn't have to be," she interrupted. A smile permeated her voice. "You like him?"

"Yes."

"You want to bring him? My garden could really use an expert's touch."

"Mom, florists and gardeners are not the same thing," Len corrected her, pretending not to feel overwhelmed by too many emotions at once as he went along with her banter. "Plus, I don't think he'd appreciate doing that."

Mom laughed. "Okay, fair enough. If I'd get to meet him, eventually, that'd be nice, though," she said.

"I'll ask him," Len replied before he could reconsider. "I'll ask him and then I'll call you again."

"Okay," Mom agreed. "Okay."

* * *

" _Meet your parents?_ "

Len averted his eyes, suddenly extremely interested in the ribbon tied into a garishly pink arrangement on the counter. "My _mom_ , not my parents," he mumbled, as though that would change anything.

Piko huffed. "Same difference," he said, snatching the bouquet off the counter and putting it in a bucket off to the side. An early pickup, then.

"You don't have to come if you're not comfortable," Len reminded him. It wasn't like he was going to begrudge him for it- it was sudden, and Len himself wasn't quite happy with it. The way he'd had to break it to his mother hadn't been ideal, in the first place.

Piko just stared at him pensively over his shoulder for a while before, ultimately, sighing. "It's still a while until August," he stated, completely neutral. "Taking time off before Bon would be bad for business, but after…"

Len straightened up at that. "You'll consider it?" he asked, flabbergasted.

Piko smiled, albeit a bit patronisingly. "You care about this, don't you? And I'll still have enough time to steel myself for it," he replied with a shrug. Then, his expression softened. "You've been helping me out and doing things for me since day one. I think I could go out of my way to humour you every once in a while, too."

Len felt himself flush. Unsure what to do with himself, he stared at the countertop and nodded bashfully. "Okay," he muttered with cheeks hot enough to rival a hearth. "Thank you."

A hand tangled into his hair and ruffled it. "What are you getting all embarrassed for?" Piko asked, obviously trying to get Len, in all his flushed glory, to look up at him. When he refused to do so, though, Piko settled for pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm just…" Len began, then trailed off. He wanted to tell Piko he loved him. He did a lot, these days. He was so overwhelmed by thankfulness, and yet, he still choked up when the words were at the tip of his tongue. Ultimately, he just looked up with a tiny smile. "I'm really grateful, Piko. Not just for this, but for everything you do."

Piko went a bit red in the face himself, but held Len's gaze. "I'm not good at these things, you know," he muttered, before his eyes flicked up to see if anyone was currently walking by the glass storefront. When there apparently wasn't, he leaned in and quickly pecked him on the lips. "Likewise," he said as he pulled away, and Len chased him to kiss him again.


End file.
